Gamboge
by kUgi-jeL
Summary: A musical version of the original Leroux story with modern music. Mainly Erikcentric though features the other character viewpoints. The songs featured are meant to be sung by the characters as shown.
1. Chapter 1

He heard her voice before he ever saw her.

This was fitting obviously as he'd built much of his life centered on music not aesthetics. He'd been working on a piece keeping himself busy, distracted when he noticed the sound. A woman's voice that pierced through the darkness and caused him to stop in the middle of his work to listen.

_Nothing ever_ caused Erik to interrupt his writing to listen.

It wasn't that her voice was particularly impressive. No. Not in comparison to the plethora of musical greats that passed through the opera house daily. _Especially_ not in comparison with his own.

In fact it was rather average.

_So ignore it._

_No. It cannot be ignored. _

There was something about the way her voice echoed, pervading through the floorboards into his abode. _Something_ extraordinary that somehow managed to inspire a spark of interest in this man, seemingly only half alive.

Regardless of what caused it, there was now an insuppressible desire within, at least to learn more. At least to learn whom it was that this voice belonged to. He was willing, even if it took effort.

Once he knew this he'd be able to ignore it.

Immediately after he'd gained this resolve he set out to find her without having to reveal himself. He needed to be as inconspicuous as possible.

It took hours above ground until he heard it again. Yes! The melodious yet highly flawed unmistakable sound of the young woman. There it was! Coming from a small room.

Hiding behind her mirror he enjoyed his first glimpse of her.

_She seems dressed in all the rings/ of past fatalities_

The woman, though she appeared to be more of a girl, matched the voice he'd heard exactly! She was beautiful in the traditional sense of the word, beautiful the way he had always heard the term used. Yet she was so much more than that! So vulnerable, so indescribable!

_So fragile yet so devious/ she continues to seem_

_Climatic hands that press/ her temples and my chest_

Yes he could see it, he could feel it within his mind! He needed it! This was what had been missing. The inspiration necessary for him to complete his Don Juan piece. The inspiration he had needed to complete his life!

At that moment he knew, this glimpse would not be enough to suffice.

_Enter the night that she came home. Forever_

What sorrow this was! He could never have her, he was well aware. She would refuse him like the rest of the world always had. She is one of them! She is nothing to you!

_Oh she's the only one who makes me sad!_

But he was lying to himself.

_She is everything and more/ the solemn hypnotic_

_My Dahlia bathed in possession_

No! This is insanity! Why must the forbidden be so irresistible! Why does life torment him so! She is nothing. She is nothing. She is nothing.

Bring her with you, he thought to himself. It is impossible for you not too. You must. You need her.

_She is home to me._

_I get nervous perverse when I see her its worse/ but the stress is astounding_

_It's now or never she's coming home_

_Forever_

_Oh she's the only one that makes me sad._

There must be some form of compromise. Perhaps a way to have more of her but not all of her. A way she will not refuse me.

_Hard to say what's got my attention/ fixed in crazy aphid attraction_

_Carve my name in my face/ to recognize_

_Such a pherenome cult to terrorize_

_I won't let this build up inside of me_

_I won't let this build up inside of me_

_I won't let this build up inside of me!_

_I won't let this build up inside of me!_

Erik could communicate with her without her seeing perhaps. But this is no good. Why would she agree to such an arrangement?

Perhaps if she was receiving something in return? What could she want from him?

_I'm a slave and I am a master/ no restraints and unchecked collectors_

_I exist through my need to self oblige_

_She is something in me/ that I despise_

_I WON'T LET THIS BUILD UP INSIDE OF ME!_

Oblivious to Erik's presence outside her dressing room Christine continued to brush her hair and sing.

Her voice had much potential though she was far from realizing it. He failed to understand why she held such intense appeal to him. She was so innocent. He couldn't keep her. She had her own life to live. He couldn't subject her to his dark form of existence.

In a last desperate attempt to prevent himself from taking her he lied to himself again.

_SHE ISN'T REAL!_

_I CAN'T MAKE HER REAL!_

_SHE ISN'T REAL!_

_I CAN'T MAKE HER_

_REAL!_

Then the solution came to him. He could train her as an unseen voice. Remain behind her mirror, make her love him for him before he takes her.

Yes.

This will work.

Then he spoke.

A/N Thus ends chapter one of my psuedo songphiction. It switched from third to first person alot because Erik refers to himself in third person alot and in this story he is somewhat insane. The song featured is Vermillion by Slipknot. Hope you liked it.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N Just an fyi to anyone who didn't quite get what I was going for. I'm trying to mirror Leroux's writing style hence the extreme dramaticness and liberal use of exclamation points. I'm not just super hyper active. But here I'm going to try a more modern sounding normal tone see if people prefer that.**

**Also I intended to maintain the same voice for each character when using the modern songs by restricting each person to one artist (such as that Erik will stay Corey Taylor not because Corey can sing too well or anything but because his songs often have many parallels with Erik's portrayal in the original POTO). That said I will deviate from the artist I choose for each character if there's another song with lyrics that are better incorporated into the POTO storyline. Like in this chapter I _really_ did not want Christine to sing Beyonce songs but hey if the glove fits.**

**Anyways enough of my blabbering here's a second chapter**

**Christine's POV**

I don't know what I had expected. That I, some small towner with no money, would be able to somehow have an incredibly successful singing career in a matter of months? That saving all of my money to go to Paris would change my life? Make me someone remembered by all? Someone worth writing about, listening to, discussing?

It sounds so naïve and ridiculous once you think about it.

Despite all my work and dreams, in Paris I was seen exactly as I was seen in Sweden. Ordinary. Actually I was seen as less than I was back at home because at least there I was noticed and regarded as talented.

Here I'm just another faceless background chorus girl.

What's worse is that my current situation seems to have not a prospect of changing. Now that I've seen what the true professionals sound like I understand. Now that I'm aware of the types of people who attain such success I know someone like me would never have a chance. These people aren't born, they are made.

People like Sorelli, who've been molded from childhood to become one of 'them'. Even people like Meg who have a family that is in 'those' circles. I on the other hand, have never even had formal training.

I might as well leave now.

The only thing holding me back from leaving is the fact that there's not much left back in Sweden either.

Rootless

Though to be fair things had been greatly improving for me lately, ever since about a month ago when one night-

"Christine you ought to run through your part tonight, your dynamics need work" I glanced behind me to find Mme. Fontaine the conductor distracting me from my reverie.

"Yes I'll pay more attention to that" I replied distractedly.

"You seem quite tired lately is everything fine?"

No most definitely not, I thought. I haven't slept completely through the night since that night I had the first dream.

Or perhaps not a dream, more of a visitation was what it seemed like. I had an entirely normal day going through the same routine as always when he visited me for the first time. It was nearly midnight and I was unable to sleep, my mind filled with thoughts about how pointless moving here had become. Just extremely stressed to the point of a breakdown when I heard what seemed like my mirror speak to me.

I can't recall the first thing he said I was too amazed by the way he said it, with a voice so smooth and calming, almost seductive that I for a moment completely forgot my worries. I wasn't even disturbed by the fact that there was a strange man's voice coming from inside my room despite all the eerie events that had occurred lately. Perhaps that was because I was half asleep though.

"Christine?"

"Oh! Sorry I was distracted Mme. Fontaine yes I'm fine thank you,"

She gave me a perplexed look then walked off.

Anyways since that time the voice has visited me almost every night. Well sometimes in the evening others in the middle of the night.

At one point I feared I was losing my grip on reality.

I remember I was training with him, as he made it clear he wanted to help me, advance in my career though at the time I was unsure as to why when I had asked who he was and he actually answered.

"I am… the angel of music"

Then what are you doing sneaking around in my bedroom? I wondered. But as the days passed I came to accept it. Some things are better left unquestioned. Now I even look forward to his visits. They've in fact become the one bright part of my life here at the opera house.

It was early but having nothing better to do I retired to my bed to sleep and await the angel.

_Every night I rush to my bed  
With hopes that maybe I'll get a chance to see you  
When I close my eyes I'm going out of my head  
Lost in a fairytale, can you hold my hands and be my guide?_

I suppose I ought not to be so eager. Not with everything that had been going on lately. Fool, you ought to have at least a trace of fear I chided myself.

Dead bodies had been found around the opera house. First the body of some man named Joe, then another. Everyone else was panicking and the entire house had been shrouded with a curtain of dread and apprehension.

I seemed to be the only person not worried about the deaths. In fact with exception to being tired more frequently my temperament had improved since the angel's visits.

_You could be a sweet dream or a beautiful nightmare  
Either way I don't wanna wake up from you_

I wasn't suspicious of him though at times he seemed anything but divine. He was emotional in a humanlike way. He had troubles and cares that an angel wouldn't have.

But I trusted him.

_My guilt pleasure As long as he's here I'll be floating on air_

After all he's my only true companion in this place. The only one who actually cares about what I have to say. Which is somewhat pitiful because I cannot even mention him to anyone. They'd think me insane.

_I wish that when I wake up you're there  
To wrap your arms around me for real  
And tell me you'll stay by side_

Perhaps someday.

Until then I will remain here steadily improving and he will remain my secret angel of the night.

A/N Don't worry there will be plenty of actual person to person interaction in the next chapters and the song is Sweet Dreams by Beyonce


End file.
